Pairing: Harai Kuko/Yamada Ichiro
Rating: 18+
Tags: Introspection | Things left unsaid | Resolved Pinning
Summary: Their leader's foul mood, plus a red-turning black and blue bruise on his left cheek made Hitoya's drink leave a bad aftertaste. It had been years since the lawyer had seen the monk acting this standoffish.
The aftermath of a re-encounter and a subsequent trip to Ikebukuro (to give and to let go).
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
"If you keep your faith and don’t step back
Even the farthest horizon will be within your reach."
(Young Gun of The Sun)
Kuuko idly swung his legs after he took a seat on the ledge of the inner part of the garden, the soles of his feet barely touching the tip of the foliage that extended around the Kugen temple, free to germinate but tended to, so it grew strong. Night had fallen, and the stars rose, goodbyes and new starts, the past and the present, the duality of life as clear as a set of mismatched eyes that filled his mind. Catching himself mid sigh, he set his gaze down from the sky to a stray cat leisurely making its way towards his old man, bumping into his leg.
"The moment I take my eyes off you, you wander far away."
The redhead took in the monk's demeanor and finally allowed himself the sigh he had been holding in, jaw clenching and aching from the tension—he rummaged through his pockets for gum, the envelope being opened an all too familiar noise to his father.
He chewed loudly, fixing his gaze on the pair staring back at him "The central ward is far away, alright. No nagging for chewing gum inside the temple today? Somethin' wrong old man?"
"You're doing it out of inner turmoil, punishment would accomplish nothing," shooing the still present black cat, Shakku set forth towards the inside of the temple, his impassive yet wise eyes regarding his son's tense demeanor with the scrutiny unique to both; a monk and a father, "nevertheless I wasn't talking about physical distance, remember that what past is left behind, the future is as yet unreached—"
Instinctively, "There's only one moment for me to live in, I know."¹ clicking his tongue in frustration, barely holding in the gum as his old man disappeared from his field of vision and no punishment was handled. He thought of his other family— his teammates, they certainly knew something was going on with him. He had tried to dismiss their concerns the last time he saw them, back from their hotel in Central Ward to their beloved Nagoya after the closing ceremony of the newest Division Rap Battle, but he ended up glossing over his memories instead.
----
A glass half-filled with whiskey dangled from Hitoya's hand as he played with his drink, debating whether to press for more information, more evidence, or leave that to the youngest one—his soft voice more suited for this case. Their leader's foul mood, plus a red-turning black and blue bruise on his left cheek made Hitoya's drink leave a bad aftertaste. Bristling but not throwing his usual tantrums, closed-off but not dismissive, it had been years since the lawyer had seen the monk acting this standoffish. As if remnants of his high school days were coming back… "Ah, that might be it,'' he thought as he set his drink down, more or less aware of what had transpired after their first meeting and before their second as per his periodical conversations with Shakku. Just as he was about to break the ice, Kuuko's shrill voice was heard, a choked reply hurriedly in tow.
"FUCK—! Jyushi, cover the ice pack first godda—!"
"U-UWAH—! Sorry, sorry! I'll try again!"
Hitoya clicked his tongue, "There are two things in life I cannot stand: ungrateful brats and secretive leaders, which may just happen to apply to you right now."
"Tch. Ain't hidin' anything."
Jyushi tilted his head to the right, two now very visible blue pools drowned their leader's reflection in worry, "Is… Is this about the Division Rap Battle?"
"More or less."
"Are you mad that we lost—"
The red-haired monk quickly put his hand over the teen's hand, the ice pack now pressing into his bruise with the push of two hands, a team effort, his eyes piercing into the other.
"Listen to me, ya' too Hitoya." His gaze momentarily but decisively set on him as well. "We're family, I told ya' there's no runnin' away, losses included. Yeah, we fuckin' lost, yet there's no shame in that. Our bond grew stronger, and so we can conquer tomorrow." Their leader spoke with such conviction that it was easy to trust him on his words, and in turn, trust that their time to support their stubborn leader would come too.
Jyushi's visual kei-styled makeup would certainly smudge a bit, going on by his now teary eye(s) but reassured demeanor. The eldest smiled wryly despite himself before pressing on. "You've mentioned that we're family before; you also mentioned Ikebukuro's poster-boy that one time. You were teammates, right?"
Kuuko instinctively flashed out his canines, out of annoyance at his bruise and its maker rather than anger towards the cunning lawyer.
"Oh! Ichiro Yamada, right? He's that nice odd-job person who helped me out that one time! The world is so small…" Jyushi drifted off when he caught the other's scrunched up nose. "You cursed him earlier while rubbing your cheek… Did you two fight? Is that why you're hurt?"
Lowering their still juxtaposed hands, he exhaled loudly. "Heh! Yes and no," he clicked his tongue, stalling and scratching one of his eyebrows. "ya' two should play detective more often..." and so, he disclosed past events and recent re-encounters, his gut coiling at the sensitive parts: emotive breakups, forgiveness, and newly unveiled governmental involvement. Everything that was not for them to hear remained tightly locked inside his chest: lips shut, eyes closed and a hundred-percent unwilling to hear their pressing inquiries in matters of the heart.²
----
Sprawled over his sheets, phone mindlessly thrown away, earphones blasting The Smashing Onions as per recommendation and now his ceiling acted as a cinema screen to project reminiscences of a few days ago, the other's scent had put a lump in Kuuko's throat, bitter nostalgia instead of sweet familiarity. Ichiro has been using the same perfume for years, "it makes the boss take me seriously, and debtors fear me instead of seeing just a kid doing nasty errands." He wished he never had to in the first place, even as he longed to catch the remnants of said fragrance off Ichiro's nape, his own forehead pressing close to damp locks of black hair. Close enough to mouth against the middle of shoulder blades, where he could rub and press the tip of his teeth if he so desired– could nip if the other were to give him permission.
Although his scent had been the same, undoubtedly it had been a long while since the last time he had taken a look at the other from head to foot. He looked distinct from his memories alright, yet it wasn't only a matter of physical appearances, he carried himself in a different way, he regarded Kuuko in an unfamiliar way— until he didn't. Could he credit it to his own doings, to coming to his aid in a rap battle? Slightly shaking his head in negation to no one in his room, he gritted his teeth and shuffled his playlists over and over again, thoughts running a mile or two an hour in a ludicrous imitation of how Ichiro— his once best friend, ran away from him not too long ago.
Kuuko turned to his side, nested his nose in the crook of his arm and tucked pieces of his heart inside his pocket. Is that how the black haired teen had felt when he turned his back on him? Karma would surely find a way back and his time had come a couple days ago. A mirrored mockery of the past, as once again it hadn't been him who ran after the other— this time around quite in the literal sense. Deluding himself was easy, the monk knew this. Yet he wasn't looking to go back at all, pretending that nothing had happened was naivety at best. Still, accepting reality felt off-putting, Ichiro had forgiven him.
He had been granted forgiveness.
At face value, such an act was his golden ticket to go back to what was missing in his life, on a surface level he was ecstatic about getting back this puzzle piece of his named Ichiro Yamada.
But in reality… Well.
Metaphorically, it had been the closing sound of metal gates, a journey to the land of what-could-have-beens. He tossed and turned, forgiveness was to be cherished like a repotted plant that had been on the verge of withering away, the monk had been taught that. He really had. Yet the red-head turned his cheek to it. Forgiveness meant that he was just another person in Ichiro's life, he selfishly wanted to be distinct from the rest.
He had not been granted forgiveness.
He had been given a chance to prove himself, an invaluable gift, not a new start line like the one Kuuko had been positioned in. Their history would not be glossed over, while their own story— lifting Ichiro up by the hand, clasping and supporting in a faraway sunset that reflected their joy—tears running down mismatched eyes, his foggy mind as blurry as Ikebukuro's passersby—
Far away, he had wandered off far away, true to his father's words.
----
And far away he had taken a trip to.
To offer his gratitude one last time after a hasty phone call, yet the first in years. The monk had concluded that he would not insist, for he had been welcomed favorably, his intentions clear in an act of visceral pride. Despite that, achingly, the red-head hung on to the illusion of catching the ashes slipping through his fingers— dreams of familiarity, nightmares of unrequitedness, hopes of reviving an extinguished fire in the night to come as he boarded at platform 14 of the Nagoya Station.³
They could have it this one time, bring it back and then let go, after all they were both companionless for the night. They could go at it— with fists or with lips, both equally fine to him; and Kuuko presumed that to the other it would be acceptable too, if and only if he still was the same. He prayed under his breath, his own wishful assumptions and nothing else. He materialized and dematerialized his Hypnosis Microphone, its weight and feel not unlike a khakkhara, its six rings⁴ ready to sound thrice at the snap of his wrist to ward off the predators.⁵
His heartbeat skipped a beat,
The predators were not animals but his own desires, expected of humans but reprehensible to someone like him— Three rhythmical rattles that ought to symbolize the cease of ignorance, yet right now he was far off the six perfections embodied in the echoing rings.
Giving and letting go, an act of generosity he could endure. He would endure, surely, but was he really giving without seeking anything in return? Again, deluding oneself as per human nature was too easy, he counted one with his middle finger and hopped off to his first transfer to the now offensive line in the offensive city by the bay.
Idly stepping on his own feet, shuffling them while he maintained his balance on the moving cabin, proper conduct was a flexible concept in his mind; while the train carried on so did his mind, surely his old man would not approve but was he not being proper by seeking to snip this ailment at the root? Was he not moving on, in order to not wander again? His left cheek pressed against the door's window, passengers taking no notice of his inner turmoil.
Using his right hand to count to three— red-tinted eyelids went shut, his thumb and index massaging the ridge of his nose, half-exhale and a half-laugh, the torments and fevers he could not renounce to, not now that they came back with a vengeance. ⁶
Passion dyed red, his hair, the rim of his eyes, a left eye, two bandanas—a pair, their blood: their hearts.
Patience and tolerance, acceptance and endurance. He was not wronged, he had been forgiven, and yet he felt the need to react as if he had been accused and thrown away; hit and left to rot. Fists or lips, the monk repeated to himself, violence or…? Verbal cruelty or sensuality instead? Which one was he referring to when conjuring up memories of lips?
Concentrate.
Observe and concentrate, guide your insights back to your teachings, a voice which sounded suspiciously like Shakku's echoed in his mind, studded ears ringing. His second transfer, walking in territory he probably wasn't welcomed in, to platform 5.
Concentrate.
And six,
Lifting his now cold cheek, he turned his back to the glass panel. Spiritual development was a trained skill, and did he develop it meticulously, yet self-reflective wisdom eluded him at the moment. A ping, the doors opened and closed. It did not elude him—if he was really, truly, honest with himself. He simply pushed his own recriminations to the back of his mind, the known-by-heart teachings locked away and the key thrown to the railway.
Just like Kuuko left behind the local line towards the commuter line.
A zealous wave of longing that swallowed Kuuko into a nothingness as vast as the sky⁷, his losing battle in a one-man struggle of four. Him against the name that was given to him.⁸ He was a dragon, was he not? Then why is it that he felt like the bell of his speakers instead?⁹ Ludicrous, considering the monk of said tale promised to come back; yet he never did. He had left without a word in the old tale and, instead, here he is— the train stopped at the Ikebukuro Station in little over two hours. He tried to swallow to alleviate his sudden itchy throat, he felt parched.
He hoped all of this would quench his thirst, that all would be… he didn't quite know where that train of thought headed to. But he hoped it was a one-way ticket towards overcoming his mostly self-imposed difficulties.
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"Somehow, it turned out this way
Being suggestive is OK Bombshell, my feelings are on wit’s end from mischief and passing time
Squeezing out each other
Obviously, without any future problems"
(Get Busy)
The tallest among them made haste, expensive coffee beans grinding inside the machine, a shrill and loud sound that would have drowned any question that might have left Hitoya’s mouth had he not been silent for a while now.
All three were on edge and honestly speaking, as someone who still had problems when it came to not rushing others, it kind of bugged Kuuko to no end. It wasn’t as if— alright, maybe it did change something, but it did not affect the bond he shared with his friends and fellow teammates, they were already tightly knit and he intended to keep it that way. The monk wasn’t sure of what changed outside their trio though, but what’s done is done, and maybe some kind of fire did reemerge from the ashes or something less poetic, he just didn’t want to talk about this with his teammates goddamnit! Ugh, he did not know how to even begin to untangle his thoughts regarding his last trip to Ikebukuro, life was easier when they were both seventeen and thus agreed that complicated matters had to be resolved with fists and broken bones.
Jyushi handed the lawyer a cup of freshly made coffee and swiftly sat down next to the redhead on the leather couch across Hitoya, it was a fancy and relatively spacious office, and then both of them figuratively pinned him to said couch with a serious look. Interest overrode caution in hues of blue and silver as the clock ticked and they patiently waited.
“So—” both of them started at the same time, a fact that irked Kuuko and made him proud at the same time, look at that synchronization! If only this were a rap battle and not a caricature of schoolgirls gossiping about their crushes. Hitoya cleared his throat, “Will you tell us already if something’s going on?” and blew steam off his cup as the long-haired teen lightly squeezed Amanda in his arms.
“We wanted to check on you! You were acting quite strange and it worried us…”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, there are—” an indignant huff and an elongated whine of the lawyer’s name, which sounded as close to a reproach as anything that might have come from Jyushi’s mouth, interrupted the other and promptly silenced his usual grouch.
A snort that felt like thunder at that moment broke their bickering as the shortest one threw himself back on the sofa, hands and arms going behind his head to act like a cushion— got to get back some semblance of nonchalance, and finally broke into a laugh. “OK, OK, alright I give up! Geez, whaddya wanna know?” Kuuko conceded, answering questions suited him better than giving overly complicated explanations.
Quickly leaning towards him, and almost choking the stuffed toy in his lap, the ever romantic visual kei enthusiast blurted out “Are your star signs compatible? You’re a Leo, right? What about umm, Ichiro?” His visible eye practically shone with said stars.¹
Sliding the ball of his tongue piercing on the back of his teeth as he counted with his fingers, Kuuko furrowed his eyebrows in uncertainty “...Leo? I think he’s a Leo too, July 26.” Delighted, Jyushi intertwined his own hands, black nail polish pristine as always.
Arching an eyebrow, the oldest lightly combed his pomp, “So, two fire signs if Jyushi’s astrology knowledge rubbed off me from his incessant ramblings,” He sighed amusedly, following the teenager’s line of conversational topic, yet the monk mimicked his questioning eyebrows. Hitoya understood and continued, “Listen, there are two things I can’t bear to stand. First, the boisterous nature of fire signs. Second, the thought of two hard-headed and easy to rile up Leos together.”
Oh they were quick to get hard and riled up alright , he thought as he flushed down to his chest. It wasn’t his intention to misunderstand the lawyer’s words but it was hard not to, OK?!
As if suddenly being granted the power to read minds, the teen shyly covered his face with his stuffed pig and Hitoya rolled his eyes, “Ugh, I need a smoke. I see you’re very well, although only one of your heads works properly. Get out, go home.” They heard a mumble of worrying us over nothing as they waved goodbye to the lawyer’s personal assistant on their way out.
The taller teen offered him a gum pack as they walked back to the nearest Sakura-dori2 line station from Amaguni Law Firm, Kuuko thanked him and wasted no time blowing and popping gum. “You know,” Jyushi murmured but paused, deciding to worry over his fringe and surrounding locks.
“Hmm?” Kuuko lifted his chin to signal that he was listening.
Leaving his hair alone, Jyushi’s mouth lifted up bashfully. “You know, it would be nice if we could all hang out. Um also, don’t mind Hitoya, he’s known you for a long time so he was quite worried about you.”
“Heh, is that so?”
“That being said, the four of us haven’t talked more than in passing so…” the visual kei artist lifted his hand to his face in the dramatic flair unique (and necessary) to any performer of said art movement. “ No, therefore this servant requests his liege to contemplate this humble one’s filial plea. 3
“I see, haha… I really need to start followin’ my own damn advice, huh? Let’s go to Marunouchi instead!” He was too in his own head, disregarding previous conversations he had had with his teammates when they were the ones with doubts and fears in their hearts.
The taller teen beamed at him in encouragement. “O-okay!”
“Which reminds me, dontcha need to be back at the temple? The old man will start growin’ back hair if ya keep him waitin’. C’mon Jyushi haul ass!! Put those mosquito legs to work!!” Kuuko sprinted with Jyushi wailing behind him at a steady pace. And so, two-thirds of Bad Ass Temple chatted until they had to depart at different directions of the same subway, one to later commute at the light-blue line and the other to later board the JR line.
Relatively horrified after boarding the Shinkansen again in less than a month, Kuuko thought of his poor, poor wallet.
(If, and only if, they decided to ditch their “one-night-stand-with-an-ex” farce then the monk will have them split the train fares somehow.)
----
A breathy sigh left Kuuko’s bruised lips, his piercing bumping against his teeth. He dared a quick peep down and moaned at the sight. Hastily slicking back damp-with-sweat black hair, he bucked his hips forward, forfeiting his self-imposed rule of not thrusting into the other’s mouth. Ichiro made a noise that was partially muffled by his busy throat. Oh, nevermind, he took out the redhead’s dick and purposefully licked his glistening lips. His now lonely dick precariously close to Ichiro’s ring-adorned fingers. “Wasn’t it supposed to be a parting affair? What happened to “not wanting a new start” , hmm?” He idly moved no more than a finger underneath the redhead's erection, deliberately teasing him.
“Will this be enough?” Ichiro drawled out the question as he rested his head on one of the naked thighs in front of him, going from the member next to him to the golden eyes above his own, trying to get more than one meaning across him.
Frustration burned slowly from his chest to his gut, settling next to his arousal, unanswered questions from their last encounter— no, from two years ago still simmering, left open just like their hearts and wounds.
“Hn… being cruel now?” Kuuko groaned, refusing to move as Ichiro pondered, flushed cheek against his thigh. His rough hand now held his shaft, the metal of his rings warmed up by now.
“You refused my forgiveness, and yet, I don’t remember you apologizing. Who’s bein’ cruel here?” Ichiro disregarded him, still wearing his ripped gray jeans.
The monk exhaled through his nose, fervently remembering the feel of Ikebukuro’s poster boy rocking in his lap last time, his hands beside each of Kuuko’s legs as he reclined himself back so as not to overwhelm the shorter one with his weight. The redhead had clicked his tongue as he dug his fingers into a thigh and grabbed the other’s waist, surging forward with a pointed thrust to knock Ichiro on his back. Ichiro had grinned, not needing to be told, he hooked his legs behind Kuuko and pettily dug his heels by his rear. “That’s more like it.” The sentence had left Ichiro’s lips between sighs and moans as the monk did his damned best to grind inside him insistently, to debauch the taller man beneath him, the other’s erection sliding between them with more ease with each press as lube mixed in with precome. His own teeth itched to mark the chest in front of him, the familiar scent of Ichiro’s long beloved perfume bewildering his senses.
Barely containing a heated whimper at the memory, Kuuko roughly caressed Ichiro’s face and hair, rubbing at the earring-less ear before resting his palm against a sweaty nape, doubling down to rest his forehead against the back of his own hand, labored breaths as they briefly cozied up.
“You’re the merciless one…” Kuuko insisted, his voice barely a rasp.
Ichiro’s hand stroked him languidly a few times before deciding to caress his way up—from the shorter one’s hip bones, to his stomach, taking his time on a nipple to finally grabbing his shoulder as he rose from his kneeling position to unhurriedly rub his lips against Kuuko’s own. The red-haired monk, still insistent on arguing back, “Blue-ballin’ me to death as ya ask me to,”
They fell into open-mouthed kisses, refusing to use their tongues, a game of denial they both knew by now. The anticipation of toying with the titanium bead heightening Ichiro’s need for something, anything to subdue his own arousal, grunting as he straddled the other’s bare thigh to rub against it. Air escaped them, the redhead gave up and finally deepened the kiss, only to immediately lick his way towards the neck slightly above him to nip and mouth against it, “...ask me to put my feelings into words as I’m tryin’ to fuck you…”
“So you’d like an— ah ,” Oh how he adored those low moans. “Easier affair?” Ichiro huffed the last part out, his hands briskly undoing his buckle as Kuuko’s hands went around and pawed at the other’s rather plump but still clothed ass, guiding the grinding motions against his leg as he fondled it— equal parts rough and reverent.
“I’d never want an easy challenge with ya... c’mon Ichiro, go get the lube.” His reply came in the form of a groan and a bite to his slightly less crowded right ear.
“Your trip was over an hour long and you thought I would just sit around and what, wait?” Kuuko didn’t—couldn’t even comment on how uncomfortable wearing jeans without underwear must be and he noisily exhaled through his nose, his impatient nature being accommodated so nicely by the other as he watched him kick his jeans out after briefly standing up, his meaning getting through him and straight to his dick.
“I think you’re downplaying how much I missed this—and you.”
----
His bare feet took him to the kitchen and back, tending to his own coke, he put the other can against Ichiro’s forehead. The other quickly jolted out of his fucked-out-nap with a, decidedly, manly shriek at the freezing sensation.
“KUUKO WHAT THE HELL!?”
Snickering, the monk plopped next to the equally naked man on the bed, “Ya’ can’t pretend to sleep the afternoon away man, the little guys will be back anytime now.” A slightly bigger hand grabbed the soda can from black-lacquered fingers after turning around on his belly, hissing as he squirmed before sitting up on the bed.
“Hmm, not sure you should be the one callin’ em’ little…” He opened up his coke, humming after sipping on it.
“Heh! Asshole.”
Ichiro stuck his tongue out at him and then grinned cheekily, “You shouldn’t be walkin’ around naked then, what if they saw you? Pretty sure they would try to kick you out without clothes to embarrass you back”.
Kuuko patted the other’s leg to make him open them, deciding to sit between Ichiro’s thighs as he lazily leaned back on him with a bark. “Like they’ve never seen another dick swinging around.” He downed half his coke in one go, as content as one can be after sex. The oldest Yamada snorted and pushed him with his shoulder. “You know it’s not about that.”
“Would they mind? Us, I mean.” The redhead asked, resting his head on said shoulder, he never really had the opportunity to get to know his best friend’s dear little brothers now that the conversation had been brought up.
Ichiro shook his head, his hair tickling the monk’s nose.
“And you?” Kuuko had wanted to keep their relaxed mood, but prior pillow-talk wouldn’t do to settle down his uncharacteristically doubting heart.
Lips graced his forehead in a kiss and as arms circled him in an embrace, he felt Ichiro’s smile against his skin. “I don’t know how we’ll go about this, but I meant it— I’ve missed hanging out with my best friend.”
“Just that?”
“Well, what hangs from you too.” He disclosed with an exaggerated roll of his mismatched eyes.
“Now look who’s bein’ a crass shithead, get real Ichiro.” The shorter one turned around to bite at Ichiro’s shoulder that shook with laughter.
“Ow,” he shoved Kuuko to the side, empty soda cans rolling off the bed, “I’ve had time to dwell on, well, everything. And like I said, it’s not like it was your fault so…”
The redhead clicked his tongue and tackled him to the bed, frustration quickly building up inside him. “Stop givin’ me this half-hearted shit, we already talked about the brainwashin’ fuckery.” He found Ichiro’s hands and tried to hold him down with his own. “I’m serious, I need to know if ya want this, if ya want me back. Fuck, I thought we could go back to bein’ all buddy-buddy. That I could endure the thought of ya eventually movin’ on from what we had, but I can’t. Not when I want you to want me as much as I want ya Ichiro.”
They grappled as the monk tried to make them see face to face, urgent on getting his feelings across as Ichiro half-heartedly tried to scurry away from him, more concerned in trying to duck his face behind his arms than to kick the redhead away. The oddity didn’t struck Kuuko right away, too focused on their annoying impromptu wrestling match, until he briefly saw how red the other’s ears were. His heart dared to beat faster.
“Wait, don’t tell me you are cryin’.”
“Who’s cryin’ goddamnit!” Said black haired guy let his hands be pushed down. “Tch! Can’t a guy be embarrassed in peace!” He grumbled, still flustered at the other’s rather zealous confession.
“Huh?” Kuuko let himself be struck dumb for less than a second before grinning and letting go of the other’s hands, favoring cupping his face and leaning down to kiss him.
Their chaste kiss didn’t last for long as Ichiro pushed his face away between grunts, his face still flushed. “Yes, yes I— do want us to get back together, alright?” He rested one hand on Kuuko’s chest and used the other one to hide his face.
Still elated by Ikebukuro’s big-brother-extraordinaire newfound bashfulness, he couldn’t help being all smiles, his teeth catching on his own lip as he tried to tone it down. “Hey, what was that now? Ya’ used to be stiffer than this, ha! When did ya get this shy?” They continued to scuffle weakly, the monk now more interested in peppering kisses on the very red face in front of him.
“Stop it! I used to have a lot on my back okay?!”
“Man, how can ya be this cute? Shit, it’s gettin’ to me.” Delighted, Kuuko brought a hand to his temple, face now equally red as his hair.
Ichiro bristled, his carefully crafted persona crumbling one chuckle at a time before he had enough and shoved the monk off him. “Yeah, yeah, now let go, my ass still hurts.” Betraying his own words he sat on the edge of his bed and before he could stand up, Kuuko was glued to his back, nibbling on his already blotched shoulder. “I don’t think I can ever let go again.”
His heart did funny things inside his ribcage as he ruffled the other’s short hair, smiling into the peck he gave Kuuko’s cheek.
“Would ya mind hanging out with us?”
“Hm?”
“Jyushi asked me to— requested his liege , as he would put it.”
“Heh! Of course, I think Jiro would get along well with you…”
Less than a second later, as if to object, they heard a cough from the other room. The eldest Yamada at the household hid his face into his hands, while the monk shredded any trace of doubt he might still have had etched into his heart and strode across the very-much-open bedroom door.
Naked, of course. Proper conduct was still the most flexible concept in his mind to the dismay of his old man and Ichiro when it came to his teachings.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Author's note: had this draft collecting dust since march 2022 after the drama track When Six Colors Combine dropped (this is set immediately after the events of said drama track). After finally getting to watching BAT animated, i just couldnt keep thm appart which makes the second part quite the tonal shift from the previous one. i'm not entirely happy about that but i wanted to be done with this, and well, they deserve to be happy in the time-frame this takes place. so chalk it up to kuuko's own insecurities vs actually taking action (just like get busy's lyrics wink)
As a disclaimer, I did a lot of reading regarding some concepts and spent hours researching buddhism and its adjacents but i do not practice it, so, some concepts might not be entirely well translated into practical use. If you do have the knowledge and find something that's incorrect, PLEASE let me know !
1a. Paraphrases quote on MN131: Bhaddekaratta Sutta: An Auspicious Day (translated by Thanissaro) "What is past is left behind. The future is as yet unreached. Whatever quality is present you clearly see right there, right there."
2a. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil": According to buddhist tradition, the tenets of said proverb are about not dwelling on evil thoughts.
3a. Platforms 14 & 15 are for boarding to shinkansen services bound for Shizuoka, Shin-Yokohama, and Tokyo. (decided on the 14th one because of Jyushi !)
4. A Khakkhara with six rings represents "The 6 Perfections" which, in Mahāyāna Buddhism, refer to the set of character ideals/bases of self-cultivation to reach the buddhist ideal (or enlightment) aka generosity, virtue, patience/acceptance, diligence, one-pointed concentration and wisdom/insight.
5. The staff was recommended to monks by Buddha to ward off animals, as physical protection from dangerous predators like tigers, and to scare off snakes and spiders while monks wandered.
6. Along with 4, I mixed in Theravāda Buddhism's ten perfections which Kuuko starts to recount aka giving oneself, proper conduct, renunciation, discernment, effort, tolerance/endurance, honesty, determination/resolution, loving-kindness and serenity.
7. The 空 (Ku) in his name means "sky, air, void, emptiness".
8. Struggle of four: refers to "Harai" which means "parajika", the four gravest offenses for a Buddhist monk: unchastity, stealing, destruction of life, and false statements.
9. Kuuko's speakers may be based on the story of Anchin and Kiyohime (Japanese folklore): She fell in love with a young Buddhist monk named Anchin, but her interest in the monk was rejected. In order to avoid her, he deceives her with a false promise to return. Kiyohime became furious by his rejection and pursued him in rage. She chased after him and transformed into a serpent, he sought help from priests in the Dōjō-ji temple who hid him under the bonsho bell of the temple. However, the serpent smelled him hiding inside the bell and started to coil around it. She banged the bell loudly several times with her tail, then gave a great belch of fire so powerful that it melted the bell and killed Anchin.
1b. ARB canon stated that Jyushi is into astrology, his room is pretty much constelation-inspired which mixes in nicely with his moon themed everything.
2b. Most lawfirms in Nagoya are close to Nagoya's ZEPP Music Hall in the city centre so i located Hitoya's office around there, making the sakura-dori and higashiyama subway lines the most convenient for them to visit (go pester) him. They decided to go to another station to make the transfer from the subway to the train railway faster (at least in Kuuko's mind). About the fast train, according to japan-guide dot com: The Tokaido Shinkansen is a shinkansen line that connects Japan's three largest metropolitan areas (Tokyo/Yokohama, Nagoya and Osaka/Kyoto) with each other. It is Japan's best used shinkansen line with departures every few minutes. (Kuuko's spending a TON on a ticket, it was painful to write and the most unbelivable thing in this entire fic).
3b. Jyushi's "filial piety" is a nod to his teachings at the temple to encourage Kuuko to say yes, it's actually a veeery feeble take on the Buddhist concept of Filial Piety to help to sustain the social order (aka getting two idiots together).
not actually a note but apparently going commando with loose fitting jeans doesn't actually chafe and rings don't get caugh in skin if theyre mostly plain like the ones ichiro likes to wear :)